Silence
by kafka-ish
Summary: A somewhat dissatisfied-with-life Josh returns home late from work only to feel an eerie presence. Is he simply sleep deprived and dramatic? Or is something really watching him, just out of sight? Set slightly in the future. Puhlease review.


**AN: I don't own the characters. Some discretion advised. Review please! I can't learn with out 'em. :) **

**Set in the not-too-distant future. Josh is finished with college.**

It's three thirty AM as I'm pulling into the driveway. It's a chilly fall night; the moon is bright and bloated, high in the sky like a pumpkin anxious to be carved. The leaves have just finished falling off the trees leaving them as bare as skeletons, their limbs scratching at the sky like bony fingers. Another long, twelve hour day is behind me, and I'm exhausted.

The house in front of me is dark and empty like a shell. My parents are out of town this weekend, on something my Dad calls 'together time,' which I'm sure includes activities I'd rather not think about. I hate that I'm living with my parents at my age, but with my step brother away on tour and me finished with college but without a real career I can't afford a place on my own yet. I'm fully aware I'm in a rut, trapped in a mind numbing routine: eat, sleep, work, apply for jobs. God, what good is my hard earned degree anyway, if no one will hire me except the crappy movie theater I worked at _in high school? _I try to remind myself this is only temporary, and that Drake won't always be the only one living out his dreams. I just have to be patient. I sigh and shake the familiar thoughts from my head before I slip into full out melancholy, turning off the engine. It's chilly outside, and a slow breeze blows into the car and up my short sleeves as I open the door. I lean over to collect my things, my wallet, keys; sliding them into my pockets. My head feels heavy and sluggish with sleep, and I'm looking forward to the quiet of the dark house.

As I grope for my phone, I suddenly feel a presence near by. Stiffening, I sit motionless for a second trying to determine to source of my anxiety. The base of my neck starts to heat up and I am abruptly possessed with the idea that someone is watching me. My blood starts to pound in my ears, and the hairs on my neck and arm raise. An intense pressure begins to build, and I pivot slowly. On instinct I look to the boot of my car, so sure someone is there but fiercely praying I am wrong.

But there is someone standing there. Actually, there. Leaning against the back of my car, quietly smoking a cigarette. The reality of it shocks me to the bone and I freeze impulsively, ready to run. I am intensely afraid I have finally lost my mind and I am hallucinating. That I have created this creature with my thoughts. Or that, god help me, I'm seeing a real ghost.

Unconsciously, wrapped up in the dreadful substance of it all, my phone slips from my hand and drops to the curb It bounces with an earth shattering clatter in the silence, jolting me back to reality. The animal instinct within me flees with the wind, and with a sudden sigh of relief I realize who it is. A familiar figure, my sister Megan. High in the sky the clouds shift over the moon, partially obscuring her, but I can see her plain t-shirt that she always wears at night with the simple, if obscure, logo on the front. I recognize her obnoxious, worn pale blue sweat pants, part of her new 'I'm-a-bohemian-college-student' look. I feel my pulse returning to normal.

She doesn't say a thing, doesn't laugh or mock, so I assume she must not have seen the extent of my freak out. She's lost in the world of her thoughts, which is fine with me. I'm a patient guy, and Megan can be a lot sometimes, so I don't break the silence. In the stillness, all that is moving is the trail of smoke snaking its way up from her cigarette to the clouds above and I wonder abstractly if that's a new habit she's picked up from her college friends.

Shaking my head and laughing quietly at my own dramatics, I lean down to retrieve my phone. Unfortunately, it has bounced quite a bit under the car, so I'm forced to get on my hands and knees to reach it. I gasp as far under the belly of the thing as my arm will stretch, my fingertips brushing against the plastic face. As I slowly edge it into my hand, my subconscious suddenly begins to scream at me. I am violently aware of many things at the same time: the height of the head- abnormally well above the top of the car, the uniform and extreme flatness of the chest beneath the familiar t-shirt, the strangely angular jaw briefly outlined in the moonlight. With all the courage I can muster, I slowly turn my head towards the rear of the car. As I watch, a cigarette falls to the ground, and is methodically crushed by a very large and very unfamiliar boot. Then, with assured purpose, they turn towards me.

I scramble back out from under the car to face the owner of the boots, backing myself up into the side mirror. The edge pushes sharply into my kidney, but I don't cry out or even feel it. My eyes widen, and I watch in horror as the clouds shift again and I can see the other's face clearly.

It's a mask. A grinning plastic mask of my sister's face, incredibly realistic down to the smallest detail. Except the eyes have been cut completely out, and instead all I can see are black empty sockets staring down at me, boring into me. The clothes are definitely hers, the very ones she should be wearing at this moment. My heart aches as I try, and fail, to not think of how He came to have them. Time comes screeching to a halt. My arms grow as stiff and heavy as lead and my legs feel like noodles. My blood turns to ice and my heart studders to a stop. I can't remember how to breathe. Why can't I breathe? I can't shift any part of my body, I feel cemented into place, unable to look anywhere but at that alien and familiar smiling, stiff face. I can't tear my eyes away from those dark sockets, and they seem to grow and deepen, sucking me into their cold, horrifying depths. My mind feels like cotton and I'm suddenly dizzy. I'm trying to turn away, to run away, but my body won't listen. It stays resolutely frozen, and my limbs feel as if they belong to someone else.

With deliberate slowness, the creature walks calmly towards me. I open my mouth to scream, over and over again, but like a nightmare my vocal chords are frozen and barely a whisper comes out. I'm distantly aware my legs shaking uncontrollably. All the muscles in my arms feel suddenly weak, and I know I will be unable to fight him off. His hands are extending towards me, and I can see the rock, and then he's there and I know it's all over.

And I still can't make a sound.

The whole thing happens in deafening silence.


End file.
